


Seventeen

by angelb0y



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelb0y/pseuds/angelb0y
Summary: Lucy turned seventeen twice. Once in England, and once at home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for Narnia- I have a lot of ideas for much longer fics, but I don't want to put a ton of effort into something no one is going to read, so I'm starting out with this quick shorter piece and seeing how it's received. Feedback is appreciated!

Lucy's first 17 was a riotous event.

Coming of age as a queen meant something much different from what schoolgirl could expect. Her hair reached her waist, as did Susan the Gentle's. But unlike her swan skinned sister, Lucy's hair was wild and lightened by the Narnian sun, as her lips and chin stained from wine and berries and blood. The forests favored her, for she lived with a dagger in her hand and another for a tongue. She became of the land as much as the grass and stones or the sky.

She grew into her skin as a lioness, teeth and claws and the thrill of the hunt mixing with the breath of Aslan. It was said of her, by her brother Edmund, that Lucy did not engage in flirtation, only affairs.

Her first was a boy made of the shadows of the ocean, with sunset eyes and earth dark skin. It was not love, but the creation of a rainstorm. It ended before 17, but the marks he left stayed with her. The next was a girl of the mountain laurels, with teeth made of the bones of the buried. She was love, if a queen was capable of that. They were of each other for four years before the mountain came to claim his daughter from the upstart queen. After, others followed but left little more than superficial dust.

She sheared her hair beneath the light of the Leopard and swam with the naiads of the Great River, throat glowing in the starlight. The whispers of Bacchae's conversian started on nights where wine stained girls could be found outside of Cair Paravel, their queen among them.

The Golden Age of Narnia coincided with the dusk of Lucy’s golden age. She did not fade, but became regal rather than riotous, and let her hair and eyes grow tame.  
There is a space for her heart in the very bones of Narnia itself.

-  
  
Her second seventeen, the one she loathed, was spent within closed walls and under the gray skies of England.

There was a woman who expected to be called ‘mother’ when she had no more of a hand in raising Lucy than the myths of tooth fairy that she had tried to impress on Lucy before she came of age. Lucy’s mother was not hers- her mother was a kingdom as vast as the world- for it was the world. She raised herself with a knife in her left hand and a vial in her right, not to say she could not find times to build the libraries of Cair Paravel\- one of which she collected each volume for on her own.

She was a miracle and no one could see except three siblings who each, in turn, were fading. So she held her head high and let the world know that she was a queen, a girl with bones and blood of power.

To carry the weight of who you are, all alone, would bend and snap the spine of someone who had not carried a crown along with her from before she touched womanhood or love.

Looking in a mirror under the English stars, Lucy could not accept what she saw as her body- for her body had scars, there and there and there and there- and nothing about her would be neat (except for the grace with which she grasps a hilt). The only scar left on that superficial body was from when she tried to wake herself up  and return to her beautiful seaside castle.  
  
So stepping onto the train with the certainty that she would go home, no matter what the supposed destination, was an act she intended to make final. Aslan was far from her mind that day, but she was consumed with memories of firsts. Seventeen was too far from home, although her first had been a riotous affair.


End file.
